


Ruin Our Friendship

by Anonymous



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Movie Night, Mutual Pining, Other, Pre-Canon, Romantic Fluff, do u know how hard it is to coordinate nobody coming over, shoutout to the hornets for being the best wingmen, they probably tried this like five times before nobody fucked it up lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Hornets decide to take matters into their own hands after years (literalyears) of watching you and their leader quietly pine after each other__ __ __Do not repost, modify, copy, or translate my works on here or any third-party site, including reading as ASMR
Relationships: Hollis (The Adventure Zone)/Reader
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	Ruin Our Friendship

You knew the others had planned it. There was absolutely no way every single Hornet magically had something to do on the weekly movie night, it was impossible. Over twenty of them had said they were going to show up and yet, somehow,  _ you _ were the sole visitor to Hollis’ apartment at 8:17 that night, despite being a solid seventeen minutes late (not by choice, of course; there had been a car with a dead battery on the side of the road, so you’d stopped to offer a jumpstart).

Hollis opened their door, empty bowl in hand and looking more than a little miffed, but even as they muttered something under their breath too fast and too low for you to make out they were pulling you inside by the crook of your arm and assuring you that the movie was still on. So, you allowed it, and followed them down their hall with your hands shoved in your jacket pockets.

It was almost embarrassing how long it took you to figure out why they were so pissed, considering the two of you were the only people in their apartment. But you couldn’t be blamed. There was a part of you that was giddy at the chance to be alone with them. It was a rare thing, and one which you enjoyed immensely considering just how fond you were of them.

“It’s not you,” they assured you the moment you arrived at the kitchen. “The others flaked out. They’re trying to prove a point.”

You wrinkled your nose at that, almost tempted to ask what, exactly, the entire stunt club had decided needed proving, but you voted against it. “Just you and me, then?”

“Yeah, I ‘spose so.” You couldn’t tell if they were disappointed. You hoped they weren’t, but you couldn’t blame them if they were. You knew how much these movie nights meant to them. Hollis turned towards the microwave and, around it, nearly ten bags of unpopped microwave popcorn. They frowned, sighing. “I guess we’ll only need one.”

“Only one bowl to clean, too,” you replied, moving over next to them and hopping up to sit on the counter. You were facing them now, the pile of popcorn between you and the microwave, and they gave you a once-over that might have made you self conscious, if it had been from another person.

Instead, you just felt flattered. And thankful to the other Hornets for deciding for  _ whatever _ reason to leave the two of you alone for the night.

They started one bag of popcorn and then gathered the rest into their arms to put away. By the time they returned, the sound of kernels popping was beginning to start, and they came to lean on the counter with their forearms crossed and their elbows supporting their weight, nestled next to you where the excess bags had been.

Their arm was pressed against your thigh. You wondered why they didn’t pull away.

“You sure you’re good with just me?” they asked you, looking up at you with a slightly furrowed brow.

You nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “Absolutely. You’re the fun one, anyway.”

A smile quirked their lips. “I think Bevin would take issue with that.”

“Untrue. Bevin would be okay with it. Tim, on the other hand, would be  _ very _ insulted on his behalf,” you countered. “Besides, Bevin’s the rowdy one. The fun one is in the eye of the beholder.”

You got a full-on laugh with that last bit, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly as Hollis turned away to remove the bag of popcorn from the microwave and dump it into the waiting bowl.

“We need to get you an air popper,” you announced, dropping from your perch on the counter.

“If you wanna fundraise for that, be my guest,” they replied.

Hollis grabbed the popcorn bowl, leading you out of the kitchen and into the joining living room, where the TV was showing the local advertisements you’d come to associate with Saturday Night Frights.

The room was set up for far more people than were present, and the sight of the many piles of blankets and pillows, additional beanbag chairs, and furniture shoved to the edges of the room made you acutely aware that it really was just you and the person you’d been crushing on for who knows how long.

You normally would have settled down in a massive chair—the one matching the couch and loveseat—tucked into the back corner of the room. It was usually the most quiet spot, and you never had to worry about getting caught up in the roughhousing that inevitably broke out in the middle of the movie’s final act every week. Plus, the chair was massive but only  _ just _ too small for two people, so you got the plush thing all to yourself.

When Hollis took their normal seat in the middle of the couch, though, you had little choice but to join them. You sat almost sideways, leaning against the corner formed by the armrest and the back, grabbing hold of a plush pillow and chucking it at your companion playfully.

It was a miracle they didn’t spill the entire bowl of popcorn, because the pillow found its mark at their arm. They turned to you, one eyebrow raised and expression lightheartedly chastising, before grabbing a handful of popcorn and throwing it at you. You laughed with them, then shoved them with your foot affectionately.

Their hand moved faster than you anticipated, catching your ankle and pulling towards them to place your legs in their lap. The movement dragged your whole body forward and left you in a reclining position with your head resting on the armrest. You were too shocked to do anything, face flushed and hot, and you turned towards the TV in the hopes that they wouldn’t notice your blush.

They didn’t remove their hand from your calf, even as they reached over to grab the remote. You kept your attention on the screen, watching a poorly acted commercial for Mount Kepler’s ski resort play out and trying very hard to ignore the tingling sensation that their touch was leaving on your bare skin.

The Hornets made a cameo in the background of one shot—you’d been just dicking about on the slopes when the commercial had been filmed, Keith’s going theory was that they’d done it on purpose, and you were inclined to agree. It looked impressive from a distance, though you knew from having been there that Keith hadn’t landed the jump that was being all but showcased.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest. There was a part of you—a stupid, illogical part of you—that feared Hollis could hear it. If they could they weren’t reacting, only staring at the screen with their hand  _ still holding your fucking calf _ . You felt like you might combust. You probably would be feeling that way anyway; their profile in the dim light of their living room was striking. But not only did they look insanely attractive at the moment, they were also holding your bare legs in their goddamn lap and—god. You weren’t going to survive this night.

They set the popcorn down on your lap, right in between the two of you. The commercial ended and your attention returned, thankfully, to the screen before you as Ned Chicane came on stage live from the Cryptonomica to talk about the upcoming movie.

It was called Psychomania, apparently, and it was about a biker gang—which meant Hollis had definitely seen it. They liked old campy horror flicks, and they liked biker movies, and they  _ especially _ liked when the two came together.

“This is a good one,” they said, excitement clear in their tone as they turned to you. “I mean, it’s terrible, but that’s what makes it good.”

You nodded sagely, eyes wide with a face that clearly said  _ I think you’re full of shit _ .

They flicked your leg, reminding you immediately where it was and forcing you to turn back to the screen to save yourself the embarrassment of them witnessing the effect they had on you. The opening credits were beginning to play; Ned Chicane and his stage nowhere to be seen.

You had to admit, you didn’t get the fuss about these movies. The appeal of watching something bad was never one which spoke to you, and oftentimes there was misogyny and racism that just turned you off the whole thing altogether.

And the violence. Jeez. Not that you didn’t enjoy a good on-screen bloodbath now and again, but really? Some things were better in moderation.

You watched them anyway, though, because you loved your friends and you enjoyed any excuse to hang out with them, not simply because of Hollis (though Hollis was a factor). You’d often have a quiet enough corner that you could spend the night on your phone. This time, though, you couldn’t pull out your phone. That didn’t make you any less distracted.

Your attention, though you were facing the TV, was almost entirely on Hollis. They were hard to ignore when every time they reached for the popcorn they jostled the bowl, and every time they moved their hand or their body your legs would brush up against them. They were absent-mindedly rubbing your calf with their thumb, and every time you glanced over at them your eyes were drawn to the line of their chiseled jaw or their defined bicep. You spent nearly forty-five minutes sitting there, painfully aware of their presence and desperately trying not to be.

It was only when the film erupted into a gruesome display of gore and murder that you finally paid attention. You held back a gasp, almost transfixed, but it soon became too much for you and you threw yourself face-first into the back of the couch next to you.

Hollis shifted beneath your legs, body clearly turning to face you. “You good?”

“Fine,” you tried to say, muffled and small.

“C’mon, we do this all the time,” Hollis said, and despite your eyes being solidly obscured you knew they were grinning from the sound of their voice. “This is nothing compared to like half the movies we’ve watched!”

“There’s usually a huge crowd!” you whined.

“What does  _ that  _ mean?” They were all but laughing.

“I don’t have to actually  _ watch _ the movie,” you bemoaned, “I can just sit in the corner on my phone and hang out with you guys.”

“Huh?”

You raised your head at that, hearing the amusement dropping from their voice. When your eyes found their face they were frowning, looking far more troubled than you’d like. “Hm?”

“You come every week to watch these movies,” Hollis said. “You haven’t missed a single Saturday. I always thought you liked them a lot. You’re saying you don’t?”

You shrugged. “I mean, most are harmless. I don’t  _ hate _ them. But I can’t say I much enjoy watching all the gore and violence.” You wrinkled your nose, remembering the graphic depictions of what you’d just described from the movie still playing on screen.

“That’s kind of the point,” they said, as if you simply didn’t get it.

“I know, Hol,” you replied. “I know what the point is and I don’t think anyone’s weird or stupid for liking them. I just don’t get it.”

“You haven’t missed a single Saturday,” they repeated, “and you don’t even like the movies we watch?”

“I like them fine!” you insisted, sitting up for the first time since the movie started. Your legs slid out of their lap; their hand seemed to linger, tensing slightly as if to keep hold but releasing as you pulled them back to tuck them under your body. “If I couldn’t stand them I wouldn’t come.”

“Why  _ do _ you come, then?” They were more curious than anything now, turning to face you with one arm hanging over the back of the couch and the other resting upon their leg.

You huffed, looking away. You came for  _ Hollis _ , of course, because they loved these campy old movies and they loved watching them with the Hornets, and you loved seeing them so damn excited and happy.

“I like spending time with you guys,” you settled upon saying, and it wasn’t entirely untrue. You liked spending time with all the other Hornets, too. It was just that you only had a crush on your leader.

“You like being in a room full of rowdy 20-year-olds roughhousing and talking over the movie?”

“I literally just told you I couldn’t care less about the movie!” You gave a toss of your head, lips holding the ghost of a grin. “So, yes, I do like that—roughhousing and all—thank you. I  _ am _ a Hornet, you know, because it seems you, oh leader, have forgotten.”

“Never.” They were smiling at you, almost wistfully. “I recruited you, if you recall.”

God, it was hard to imagine a time when you hadn’t known the Hornets. But you remembered their “recruitment” like five years hadn’t passed.

“I’d hardly call asking me to hold a camera for you recruiting me.”

“Speak for yourself.” They were fully facing you now, movie clearly forgotten, leaning sideways against the couch. “You were in yellow by the end of the weekend. I’d say handing you a camera was  _ very _ effective.”

“Or maybe I just took pity on you because you faceplanted directly into the snow and I, as the only one with a fucking car, had to drive you to the hospital to get stitches with Keith and an entire roll of wadded up paper towels keeping you company in the back,” you retorted.

“Don’t remind me. I still have a scar on my lip.”

“Do you?” The lip injury hadn’t even seemed that bad in comparison to the one that had bled all over your back seat. You sat up onto your knees, leaning forward and inspecting their lips.

“What are you—” Hollis cut themselves off as you reached forward and grasped their jaw, turning it to your right so you could look at the ride side of their mouth.

Then you were suddenly hyper aware of the position you’d just put yourself in. God, you were a dumbass. You must have looked completely insane. But you couldn’t take your eyes off their lips, which looked so soft and pink. There had been a few occasions in the five years you’d known each other when they had worn lipstick, and you had found yourself imagining pulling them into some dark corner to mess it all up; smudging it with your own lips, them marking your neck with red pigment.  _ Fuck _ . You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s hard to see.” They bit back a smile—literally, biting their lower lip to hold it back. You were  _ so _ screwed; the motion practically gave you heart palpitations. It certainly made your breathing heavier. “You can feel it, though.”

You certainly wished you could. There was a millisecond when you would have; the urge to lean in and close the gap seized you, and you very nearly pressed your lips to theirs. They were just  _ so close _ .

Instead, you pulled away, ignoring the longing that tugged at your stomach and dropping your hand back to your side as you sat back down in your previous position. Hollis was quiet, eyes locked on you, expression impossible to interpret.

You both sat there for a moment that felt far longer. In another context, it might have made you feel awkward or nervous. Instead, the silence was still; thick with something, but not uncomfortable, just… there. Nearly tangible. And then they spoke.

“You said you liked the roughhousing?”

“Wha—” Frankly, with an opener like that, you shouldn’t have been surprised when you were tackled off the couch and to the ground before you could even finish the word. You landed in the pile of blankets, pillows, and beanbag chairs that had amassed from their places around the room, and Hollis’ hands were at your sides mere seconds after your back hit the giving surface.

Uncontrollable laughter bubbled up inside you, brought forth from Hollis’s fingers managing to find every possible ticklish spot on your torso. Your surprise had given them the upper hand, and now they were kneeling above you with a look of pure mischief mixed with glee on their face.

“Cheater!” you accused through tears of laughter. But in the grand scheme of things, you weren’t that ticklish—and you knew the opposite was true of your opponent. You shoved your hands out almost blindly, catching them in the chest and tossing them off balance.

They held themselves for a moment, and then toppled over, arms still latched onto you. You followed the movement and flung one leg over their torso to straddle their waist and then retaliate, your own fingers finding purchase at their sides.

The sound of their laughter had you holding back a blush. You covered it up with your own, joining them as the two of you completely lost it and the movie in the background gave way to the credits. Hollis was a flailer—it was why you’d taken the initiative to straddle them before absolutely wrecking them with tickles—but it was still difficult to keep it up, their long limbs doing you a disservice.

So you pulled back, still straddling them, sitting on their thighs as they caught their breath.

It was in that still moment that you caught the faint line of pale skin that bisected their upper lip. Their eyes were closed when you leaned in, but when your hand cradled their jaw and your thumb reached about to brush across the scar they opened slowly to reveal irises dark with something that took your breath away.

Hollis had been right. You  _ could _ feel it; right there, under the pad of your thumb, a mar on the soft of their lips, which had parted ever so slightly beneath your touch.

“It  _ is _ still there,” you finally spoke, voice catching somewhere in your throat and sounding heavy in your chest.

The corner of their mouth twitched. “Would I lie to you?”

“I dunno.”

Their eyes flitted down your body, lingering slightly on the legs still wrapped around their waist. You were pinned by the look, almost in a trance.

“You know why I asked you to hold the camera for that stunt?” Hollis asked softly, as if speaking too loud would break whatever magic had fallen over you.

“Why?” you asked, equally low.

Their straying gaze returned to your face, lingering on your lips for mere moments before finally settling on your eyes. “I was trying to impress you. But then I got a good look at you from the top of the ramp and you had this glow from the sun and I… got distracted.”

Distracted? What did that…

Oh.

_ Oh. _

You swallowed thickly. Well, it was only fair.

“Yanno why I stayed tonight even though it was just the two of us?” you asked. Hollis shook their head, slow and even, so you continued. “I wanted to spend the night alone with you.”

You didn’t know who leaned in first, though you thought maybe by some miracle it might have been you. All you knew was that somehow, finally, the two of you closed the ever decreasing gap between you.

When your lips touched theirs, it was like a dam broke. It was sweet and gentle for all of a second; you pressed against their mouth and felt that scar even more closely as the dimpled surface ran against your skin.

And then their arm found home around your waist, and their other hand reached upward to hold your neck, and the kiss transitioned from sweet to feverish.

They fell back into the plush beanbag chair and pillows, partially shoved down by your hand on their chest. You immediately brought it up to join it’s twin in cupping Hollis’ face, fingers tugging at the little wisps of hair at the back of their neck and pulling them closer. Their arm tightened around your waist and pulled you downward until your bodies were nearly flush.

Hot and needy, your lips worked together as five years of pining finally paid off. When you finally pulled back for air they followed almost desperately, unwilling to part from your lips and then tracing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck when you fully sat up.

They finally pulled back just as you let out a soft sigh, and you opened your eyes to find them staring at you, breath heavy. It hit you right then—staring at them, bracing themselves with their arms behind them, you sitting firmly in their lap. You’d just been making out with your long-time crush and leader. Hollis was sitting beneath you and…

_ Christ _ .

The word  _ debauched _ wasn’t something you’d thought could be said in modern times and yet it popped into your head as you took in their swollen lips and mussed-up hair. The look they were giving you should have been illegal, staring upward in something like adoration, eyes hooded, biting their lip.

“What?” you asked, sounding far more collected than you felt.

“Nothing.” Hollis shook their head.

“No, you’re staring at me, clearly it’s someth-“

They cut you off by lunging upward and kissing you again, soft and sweet and over too fast as they pulled away and left you smiling uncontrollably. “You’re cute, is all.”

You collapsed into them at that, unable to take the praise, burying your head into the crook of their neck to hide just how wildly you were grinning. Their chest beneath you shook with quiet laughter.

When you sat back up, they were still smiling. Their eyes roved your face. You reached forward to play with a lock of their hair.

“Movie’s over,” Hollis noted.

“Mhm,” you hummed in acknowledgement.

They sat up fully, hands coming to your waist to keep you firmly in their lap before they took hold of your unoccupied hand and laced your fingers together, rubbing their thumb over the back. Then they leaned in, almost nuzzling into your neck. “Stay the night?”

“Absolutely.”


End file.
